Writing When It’s Not Like a Movie
By Jo Eberhardt | May 7, 2016 |
Photo by Flickr user Ishai Parasol
When you sit down to write a scene, do you see it play out behind your eyes like a movie? Can you close your eyes and bring to mind images of each of your characters? If you’re like the majority of writers, the answer to both those questions is a resounding YES.
If, on the other hand, you’re like me, you may be peering at the questions and wondering what that would be like.
Until last year, I thought people were making it up when they said they could see what they were writing (or reading) like a movie. The concept had about as much credibility as people suggesting I count sheep to help me go to sleep.
And then, about a year ago, I was lost in the procrastination-halls of the internet when I clicked on a BBC article about something called “aphantasia”. Suddenly, I discovered that not only were people not making it up, but that being unable to create visual images in your mind is a rare condition, affecting less than 2% of the population. By definition, aphantasia is a condition wherein someone doesn’t have a functioning mind’s eye.
Not only do I not see movies as I write, I can’t visualise, well, anything. At all. I don’t even dream in pictures. I have absolutely no concept of what it would be like to see things that no one else can see.
When I tell people this, the first reaction I get is generally disbelief. That’s followed quickly by shock and confusion. (For the record, that’s exactly how I feel when people tell me they can see things in their head.) And then I get the question: “But if you can’t imagine things, how can you be a writer?”
First of all, my imagination is just fine, thankyouverymuch. As my parents, teachers, and friends from school would tell you, imagining things has never been a problem. But therein lies the problem: We tend to use the words ‘imagine’ and ‘visualise’ interchangeably.
From the Oxford Dictionary:
Visualise: Form a mental image of; imagine
Imagine: Form a mental image or concept of
So, no, I can’t visualise anything. But I can imagine things just fine. I just imagine them conceptually. If you’re curious what that would be like, try this exercise:
Read each word in the below list, taking a moment to imagine each of them:
- Hammer
- Bread
- Rainbow
- Justice
Chances are, when you got to the word ‘justice’ there was a fraction of a second between the time you read it and the time you came up with a visual representation of the concept. During that moment, you had an understanding of the word — you could imagine it — but you didn’t have a visual image to go with it. That’s what it’s like inside my head all the time.
All of which is interesting. At least, I hope it is. But the question is: Why am I telling you all of this?
What does this have to do with writing?
Aphantasia doesn’t prevent me developing stories and characters, but it does make it difficult to write descriptions of what anyone and anything looks like. For a long time, I didn’t think that was a problem. I generally skip over description when I’m reading for what should be obvious reasons. But, as it turns out, most readers like to have at least a vague idea of what places, people, and things look like. So, over the years, I’ve developed a series of tools to help me add visual description to my writing.
Statistically speaking, there are likely to be at least a few people reading this who also have aphantasia. But hopefully these tools are helpful even if you have the amazing ability to see things in your minds.
1. Practice writing descriptions in real-time
When I walk away from someone, I immediately forget what they look like.
No, that’s not exactly true. I remember what they look like, I just can’t call up an image of them in my mind’s eye. So, for all practical purpose, I’ve forgotten what they look like. To counter that, I craft visual descriptions of people when I meet them. While I’m saying hello, I’m also mentally telling myself: “She has shoulder-length blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, sparkling green eyes, and a Grateful Dead t-shirt.”
When I sit down to write, I have scores of ready-made descriptions to mix and match. I do the same with places and objects that interest me. Even if you don’t have aphantasia, regularly practicing simple descriptions in your head can only improve your writing.
2. Remember that less is more
One of the biggest thrills for me as a writer is having someone read my work and say: “I could picture that scene perfectly.” It’s a kind of magic to give readers an experience that I’ve never had. But, as it turns out, you can go overboard with visual description.
As I learned through trial and error, a couple of specific details is really all it takes. In fact, the more complicated and comprehensive the description, the harder it is for people to create their own little mind’s-eye movie. To wit, raise your hand if the description in the section above caused you to imagine the Grateful Dead girl wearing pants, even though I didn’t mention them.
3. YouTube is your friend
One of the hardest things for me to write from a descriptive perspective is action scenes. I can only imagine (ha!) how much easier it would be if I could visualise a car chase in the comfort of my own head. But, being that that’s off the table, I turn to my good friend YouTube.
No matter what crazy thing your character is doing, chances are someone has already done it. And filmed it. And then uploaded their insanity for the world to see. Whether your protagonist is crashing his car into a frozen lake, learning to fight with a longsword, or using a lemon to start a fire (no, seriously), you can find it on YouTube. And seeing something play out in reality is a huge help in making descriptions more authentic.
What other tricks do you use to write visual descriptions? Do you have aphantasia, or know someone who does?
[coffee]
Jo Eberhardt is a writer of speculative fiction, mother to two adorable boys, and lover of words and stories. She lives in rural Queensland, Australia, and spends her non-writing time worrying that the neighbor’s cows will one day succeed in sneaking into her yard and eating everything in her veggie garden.
Jo, the first thing I thought as I read this is that perhaps those of us who can visualize need to stop trying to write as if it were a movie scene. The beauty of writing is that we’re not limited to the two senses we see on a screen (isn’t that amazing…only 2 out of 5!).
I’ll refer back to yesterday’s post about using description to match the mood or emotion of the character. When we writers describe an object, we have a huge advantage over the screenwriter. We get to insert so much more than just the visualization. So perhaps yours is not the handicap. Maybe we need to shut off that movie projector in our heads and see the world from a different dimension. The writer’s dimension…I like it.
Thank you for an excellent post. It made me look a little deeper at the way I use description. Well done!
Thanks so much for your comment, Ron. It’s an interesting perspective. While I don’t think of aphantasia as a handicap (it is, after all, the reality I’ve always lived), I’ve never stopped to consider that there may be negatives to visualising your writing as a movie scene. Perhaps because it sounds so esoteric and exciting to me.
Kathryn’s post yesterday was spot-on, and a great comfort to people who struggle with visual description.
I love the idea of writing a description in your head when you meet someone. Great practice! The other day I found some random descriptions of people I saw several years ago and was amazed that I could re-visualize them again. I need to practice this more. Thanks for the reminder! A great thing to do on boring car trips too–“write” descriptions of the passing scenery that are not cliche’.
Mentally writing descriptions of passing scenery is a great idea, Carol. I’m definitely going to start doing that. I wonder if I can somehow turn it into a game that will both improve my writing AND stop my children from arguing on long car trips. That would be a definite win/win!
Good luck with that! So nice of you to respond to each one of us personally. :)
Jo,
I’ve been told I have infantasia…everything I write is a bit childish.
You and I have discussed this and it truly amazes me the amount of description you’re able to put into your work without being able to visualise. In Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott tells us we need to “pay attention,” and it sounds like you’ve learned to do that with great finesse due to your aphantasia. You’ve learned to compensate for your inability to visualize (okay, I’ve switched back over to the American spelling) by honing your other writerly senses, like a blind person with enhanced hearing.
Aphantasia or not, these tips are tools with which every writer can improve their craft. Thanks! And have a glassa on me. :)
LOL Mike. I write picture books, some even for the completely illiterate little people, so count me as having infantasia too.
Ah, infantasia, the little-known condition affecting so many people. Sadly, there’s no known cure. And every attempt at fundraising merely devolves into a marathon session of knock-knock jokes.
Thanks for the your words about the description I’ve learned to put into my work. So much of the criticism surrounding my early writing was along the lines of “these are just two blank faces talking in a blank room”. It’s always nice to know that I’ve surpassed that problem.
Happy writing, my friend!
Thanks for talking about this – I’ve never heard of aphantasia before!
It makes sense – whatever some people do, there are others who can’t – and it brought to mind the idea of color blindness. Getting help from those ‘other people’ – in my FIL’s case, to choose clothing; in yours, to use other people’s visualizations on Youtube – is the only solution.
I think we all have areas we are not even aware of not having. Finding them and finding ways around them make us more attuned to other people who are different. It’s a good mental stretch.
All I can think is, ‘How interesting!’ – and how to give it to a character.
Thanks, Alicia. I’d love to read about a character with aphantasia — it’s something I’d like to incorporate into a story myself one day. The different ways our brains work really is fascinating.
I absolutely agree that we all have differences and areas of challenge that we don’t always know we have. “You don’t know what you don’t know” and all that. It was so enlightening to discover the term aphantasia. Prior to that, I really did think that a mind’s eye was a metaphorical thing, and that people were making it up when they said they could “see” things in their heads.
I generally can visualize things, but I still get tons of help from Google images. It’s amazing what’s out there to find, and even more amazing how an image can bring the right words to mind.
I’ve also used YouTube. There’s a great video on there of a woman smoking which helped me write a scene. Who knew?!
Google Images is great, too. I’ve been known to trawl through it, looking for just the right image of a boat or a car or a wedding dress so I can use that as a basis for description.
I love that you used YouTube to help you write a scene about (including?) a woman smoking. What a great boon it is to live here in the future!
Jo, what an interesting condition to have and to know that it actually has a name! Perhaps you have a greater facility with words than most people because you are not trying to transcribe the scene in your head. You process the world in words, not pictures.
I like watching period movies, looking at photo-books, maps, to assist in writing. But I’ll have to watch more you-tube videos :)
Thanks, Vijaya. Period movies and books are great for historical fiction. I have an author friend who shares pictures of Victorian gowns and shoes on her FB page, and they never fail to fill me with inspiration. Happy YouTube trawling — try not to get lost down the rabbit hole!
This is such a fascinating post — I love it. I am possibly the extreme opposite of you, my visual imagery is over the top when I’m writing, so much so that I’ve thought of writing a blog about that! BUT here’s the thing, although I can see my characters do things, I can never see the faces of any of my characters, never. It’s the weirdest thing. They are always hazy or missing. In addition, I’m “less is more” to the extreme in my writing (I’m the same that descriptions of scenes, people, and things is something I always need to go back and work on), so I can really relate to the need for practicing writing these descriptions. You’ve given me such really helpful hints for how to do this, Jo. I so appreciate it!
Thanks, Julia. I’m so glad you enjoyed it. It really is fascinating learning how someone else’s mind works when it’s so different to your own, isn’t it? I never tire of hearing people tell me about the images they see in their heads. It’s so alien and esoteric.
There’s actually a related and opposite condition called hyperphantasia, which is, unsurprisingly, when someone experiences incredibly vivid and realistic visual imagines all the time. People with hyperphantasia probably wouldn’t, for example, have that moment of conceptual-thought when reading the word ‘justice’ in my example above.
Interestingly, you’re not the first person I’ve talked to who sees very vivid images, and yet your characters have fuzzy faces. I don’t have any idea why that’s the case, but it seems to be quite a common thing.
I’m glad the tips are helpful. Happy writing, Julia!
Thanks for the additional information about fuzzy faces — I definitely sense a blog in the making :-) I wish I had hyperphantasia (I admit I did hesitate at “justice”). I also just learned after being married for a long time that my husband has synesthesia; I’m so jealous! To me, that’s alien and esoteric, so I really know exactly what you mean. Happy writing to you as well, Jo!
Wow! I had no idea this existed. I’ve read your writing and you do an excellent job of describing things.
I’m the opposite. I see things in my mind and don’t write it all out. I assume the reader can see what I’m seeing. It’s when beta readers as me for more details that I remember to add the descriptions.
Thanks, Valerie. :) I can imagine that would be an easy trap to fall into when you can see it all so clearly in your own mind. Do you find that letting it sit for a while and then coming back to your work makes it easier to see what’s missing? Or does reading back over it yourself bring back all the same visual images as you had when you were writing it?
I see what’s missing. I really helps to wait a week or so between writing and rewriting.
Holy Sh*t, Jo! Everything you wrote in this post? It could have been about me. I, too, was blown away when I read about aphantasia. I, too, always thought the ‘mind’s eye’ was a metaphor.
All my early crit group buddies would tell me I wrote great stories, but tended toward ‘floating heads in black boxes’. So I learned I needed to work consciously at description long before I understood that I couldn’t actually *see* things from words the way other readers did.
I love your suggestions. I tend to find a few specific sensory details in each scene to focus on. Too much and it overwhelms the page. Too little and visualizers have nothing to hang on to. It’s definitely a balancing act!
So here’s a solidarity fist-bump from another writer with aphantasia who has no trouble imagining anything in the universe or beyond. Just don’t ask me to close my eyes and picture it.
Or read a map. Yeah. That’s a non-starter. Thank the stars for GPS!
YES! Fist-bump! See, I knew I’d find other writers with aphantasia by posting this.
I had the same experience with beta readers of my early work, where they’d tell me I had blank faces on a white screen. Or words to that effect. At the time, I figured it was just because I tend to skip over descriptive sections in books I read. It wasn’t until much later, when I discovered that aphantasia is a thing, that I realised that I’m experiencing the world so much differently to most people. And suddenly everything made sense.
I actually do okay with map-reading. In tht I read and memorise the street names I need, and then look for those street names while I’m driving. But that’s a learned way to use maps that, as it turns out, is significantly different to the way most people use them. You know what does my head in? When someone says, “Hey, you know that big purple house on x street? What colour is their mailbox?” And, despite having driven down xx street every day for years, I have to look at them blankly and say, “What big purple house?”
I’m like you. I don’t conjure pictures in my mind, not regularly, anyway. I can walk out of a room I’ve spent hours in and not be able to tell you the color of the carpets or the walls. I can meet somebody, then see them again five minutes later and think, did I meet this person? But like you, I have a very healthy imagination. For me, I get feelings and scents and sounds–from dialog to birds chirping and everything in between. I had no idea there was a name for that. Thanks for the great information.
Thanks for your comment, Robin. It sounds like you have a slightly less intense version of aphantasia. (It is, of course, a spectrum rather than a binary condition.) My mum is actually like that — she CAN conjure visual images if she puts her mind to it, but she normally doesn’t.
I’ve had all those same experiences. One of my most mortifying moments was actually when I was working in the corporate world, and I met some clients in a restaurant. They went to sit down at a table and I said I’d join them in a moment. And then, seconds after they left, I had absolutely no idea what they looked like. I literally had to just walk around the restaurant until they called my name. (I have absolutely no problem imagining voices in my head, so I always recognise a person by how they sound.)
So great to meet you, and find another person who experiences the world the way I do. Happy writing!
Such a cool piece — the brain is utterly fascinating. And you made a really great distinction between visualization of imagination. I don’t have a super-visual imagination, at least not one that tends towards static images. So when you asked us to imagine a hammer, I thought about using a hammer, and then I was kneading and baking bread, seeing a rainbow I actually saw one time and who I was with and what we talked about. Only for justice, the concept, did I think of a static image.
But I do love to write little descriptions of people in my head, and I totally rely on youtube to provide visuals for things I have no experience with. You give us great suggestions (and I love the lemon fire video — I make a lantern out of a clementine, but I’ve never tried this).
I’m with Ron (above), we writers should do less “here is a picture of what I see” style of description and use it to reveal character, ala yesterday’s great WU piece.
Kathryn’s post yesterday was amazing, wasn’t it? Everything she said was spot-on.
The difference betwen imagination and visualisation is something i have a tendency to harp on about these days, but I think it’s important. Not all imagination is visual, and thinking that it is actually rules out imagining dialogue, or the smell of freshly cut grass, or concepts like truth, justice, and… well, you know the other one. :)
Robin wrote: “I can walk out of a room I’ve spent hours in and not be able to tell you the color of the carpets or the walls. I can meet somebody, then see them again five minutes later and think, did I meet this person? But like you, I have a very healthy imagination.”
This is me too. Who knew that there could be a reason besides absent mindedness? When I’m writing, I tend to imagine a scene in WORDS, not pictures, and those words include the sensory details, if that makes any sense at all.
Enlightening post, Jo.
SK – it totally makes sense to me. It’s all about the words. I also learn by hearing and can memorize words of songs easily. But don’t ask me what color shirts my kids are wearing today. I’ve been talking to them for the last hour but I have no idea what they’re wearing.
JA – This made me laugh because “don’t ask me what colour shirts my kids are wearing today” is pretty much where I live my life.
Isn’t it great to find out that it’s actually NOT absent-mindedness, but a quirk of the way your brain works? Your description of your process makes perfect sense to me, and aligns pretty closely with mine. It’s not so much that I imagine a scene in words, as I imagine it through conceptual and sensory experiences. But that’s not exactly right either… Saying I imagine things in words is probably the closest I can get to accurately explaining it in a way that makes sense to other people.
So great to meet another aphantasiac. Happy writing!
Thanks for the lost morning! Really. Who knew?
At first, I thought I’d do a little research and paint one of my characters with this quirk, but my pause and flight of fancy at the word “justice” (thankfully) derailed that and led to a chunk of free-standing flash fiction. There must be a single word that means the opposite of aphantasia, on the wildly other end of the imaginarial spectrosa. I dialed it up and spent all morning there.
So glad you got a piece of flash fiction AND new information from my post, Deb. That’s amazing! And, yes, there is a word that means the opposite of aphantasia. You’re talking abotu hyperphantasia, which is when you have constant, vivid visual images in your mind’s eye. Sounds like a wonderful place to spend a morning.
Jo, I find that trying to write scenes as if they are movies leads to slow, over-burdened scenes.
Many writers describe that movie-in-the-mind. What they do not remember, I suspect, is that scenes in movie scripts are highly abbreviated. They leave out a lot. Dialogue does much of the work yet there’s little of it. Movie scenes are heavily edited for variety, interest, surprise and pace. There are fewer of them overall than in a typical novel.
What I prefer to think about is the impression I’m creating, the space I’m making for the reader to imagine what’s happening, and feel it for themselves.
Very true, Benjamin. As I said above, in reply to Ron, I’d never before considered the down-side to writing based on a movie in your mind. It’s a great perspective. Everything you said is exactly right, and reiterates exactly Kathryn’s point yesterday. Happy writing!
Jo, THIS IS ME! I’m so glad you wrote this! My husband is super visual and sometimes it astounds me the things he sees in his mind. Every number in his mind has an associated color. What? Why ruin the beautiful non-visual concept of a number with colors? :) He is useful for helping me recognize people in movies though. “Is that the guy who robbed the bank? I know we’ve been watching him for an hour, but he has a hat on now and I’m completely thrown off.”
I’ve never thought of it as a disability, I just always felt like I was on the far non-visual side of the spectrum.
Your tips are brilliant. I shared this with my critique group and bought you a cup of coffee – the first time I’ve done that for an author here. Thank you for writing this!
Thanks so much, JA, for the comment and the coffee. And, in the spirit of LJ above, here’s a solidarity fist-bump for another aphantasiac. :)
I don’t think of it as a disability at all, just a different way of experiencing the world. It seems to be much harder for highly-visual people to imagine what it would be like to have no mind’s eye than it is the other way around. And I totally get the confusion inherent in a character suddenly putting on a hat!
Very interesting! I met a writer last weekend with this same condition, and she described it almost exactly the same. I personally *can* visualize things in my head, but I generally tend not to. I usually obtain more an impression or two than an actual image. I certainly never see things as a movie in my head. I write very sparingly and I have to intentionally remind myself to include description because I know other people want that. So thanks for the tips!
You’re very welcome, Nora. I’m glad they’re helpful for you. It’s always so great to hear about other people with aphantasia, and to know that it’s more common than we think. The mind is such a fascinating place to explore.
(in Spock voice) Fascinating…
Thanks for sharing an unusual perspective, as well as some very pragmatic tips that I think any writer could find useful.
When I used to teach drums, I quickly learned that people process information in many different ways. So the challenge was to find the best way to impart the information to each student, which was also a fascinating and revelatory process.
As you’re already seeing in the comments below your post, you’re apparently not alone in not being as visually oriented as some other writers. Thanks again for making us think, and good luck with your writing!
Thanks, Keith. Reading the comments has, as always, been fascinating and eye-opening. Turns out, I’m not quite as “special” as I thought I was, and that’s always a great feeling.
I love what you say about finding the best way to impart information to each individual student. That’s the sign of a great teacher.
Fascinating post!
I’m curious, is aphantasia only visual? Can people with aphantasia hear an imaginary auditory scene in their “mind’s ear”? Or smell an imaginary olfactory scene in their “mind’s nose”? Etc. Or are all sensory movies off the table?
As with many things, I imagine the answer to that would be different from person to person. Aphantasia itself refers to the lack of a mind’s eye, which is a visual phenomenon. Personally, I have no trouble imagining auditory, olfactory, or other sensory details. But I imagine there are some people with aphantasia whose experiences vary.
My auditory imagination tends to work overtime, so I hear dialogue in my head in individual character voices, I can bring to mind conversations I had years ago, complete with exact words and intonation. And I can hear entire songs in my head at will. Just don’t ask me to picture any of it. :)
Jo, Fascinating post.
I love Keith ‘ s observation above about the different ways individuals can process information.
There is no write way. The river of creation is the source and potential source of many unique streams.
Beautifully said, Bee.
Fascinating post, Jo. I have nothing meaningful to add to either what you’ve said or what others have chimed in with. Yeah, I visualize, but it’s a very imperfect process. The image is a beginning that the rhythm of the language and distinct word choices affect in numerous ways. But until your post I never gave it much thought. Great insights. Thanks so much.
Thanks, David. Glad to have inspired some thought about your own process and imagination. Happy writing. :)
I also had no idea that some people could ‘see’ things in their head! I can imagine things just fine (too much) but I imagine them in words; it takes a lot of effort for me to construct a visual image in my head.
Thank you for the tip about YouTube – such an obvious idea in retrospect but I never thought of it!
Isn’t it great to find out that different people’s minds work in completely different ways? I’m a little bit envious that you can construct a visual image in your head with effort. Not because I’m unhappy with the way my own mind words, but because I’d love to know what that feels/looks like. Happy YouTube trawling!
I almost never think in terms of visuals when I write unless I’ve drawn a picture of the character or situation beforehand. Reading is similar–everything and everyone is pure concept unless something in my brain links it to a character I’ve seen from a visual medium. Even then, my visualization is almost always completely static. If I have to visualize action, it’s like those cartoons that show a single frame of someone being punched in the face for a couple seconds.
This is a fascinating condition, so I hope you don’t mind if I ask a couple of questions about it. Do you visualise things in dreams, or is that not possible for you either? And what does go through your head when you try to imagine bread? For example, do you have any sense of the shape of a loaf when you aren’t looking at one?